Chapter 228: Past Events

**Chapter 228: The Past**

Wen Xian’s phone remained silent for a full five seconds.

Five seconds later, he finally heard his own hoarse voice: “...What?”

Detective: “That bar is called *The Blues*. It was recently raided by the police—it used to be one of the hotspots for illegal activity. Shen Jixing only knew about it because Shen Yuechuan had initially arranged a business meeting at the hotel next door and brought him along. Midway through, he told Shen Jixing to go entertain himself. You know how it is—with a bar right next door, Shen Jixing was almost certain to wander in, and that bar wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up.”

Wen Xian hummed in acknowledgment: “You think Shen Yuechuan did it on purpose?”

Detective: “As you know, Nancheng has been cracking down hard these past two years. There aren’t many bars involved in illegal operations left. So why did Shen Yuechuan just so happen to choose the hotel right next to one? Besides, the Shen family operates mostly in the northern part of the city, and their business partners are all based there too. Yet this time, he went all the way to the east side for a meeting. I checked—he only visited that hotel a few times, all around the period when he took Shen Jixing there. Never went back afterward.”

“…”

Wen Xian lowered his gaze: “Put together everything you’ve got for me—how many times Shen Yuechuan visited that hotel, whether there was anything unusual about the business meetings, why he brought Shen Jixing that one time, everything. I’ll settle the rest with you later.”

Detective: “Got it. That’s all I needed to hear.”

They ended the call.

Wen Xian’s expression was grim. He picked up his fork and knife again but found himself unable to eat despite the feast laid out in front of him.

Is this how Shen Jixing died?

In their past lives, everyone claimed that the Shen family’s adopted son was a monster in human skin—heartless and ungrateful. They said he coveted the Shen family’s wealth, killed his younger brother, drove his mother to madness, sent his father to prison, and seized the entire fortune for himself.

The Jiang Zhiyi of their past lives—or rather, the Shen Zhao that Wen Xian had known—was supposed to be that kind of person. Wen Huarong believed it. Zhang Xiaoping believed it. Wen Zhu believed it. And at certain moments, even Wen Xian had believed it.

At heart, Wen Xian refused to associate Jiang Zhiyi with such things. The Jiang Zhiyi before him was pure and shy, flustered by the smallest contact. The Jiang Zhiyi of their past lives had always been calm and gentle, never showing the savage side described in rumors. Wen Xian couldn’t even imagine how this beautiful young man, who shared his bed every night and endured hardships in silence, could have orchestrated the murder of the family that had taken him in.

But everyone said so.

Gossip spreads fast, and repeat a lie enough, and it becomes fact. Even after Wen Xian took control of the Shen Group and rose to the top of Nancheng’s elite, no one would bring it up to him directly—but the rumors never stopped.

Wen Xian gripped the edge of the tablecloth, realizing: *He was set up.*

Jiang Zhiyi had never done any of those things. Never. Even his return to the Shen family wasn’t for power, but to seek justice for his deceased mother.

Without thinking, Wen Xian bit his lip, tasting blood.

The Jiang Zhiyi of their past lives hadn’t been unaware of the rumors. But with Shen Yuechuan’s family already ruined, no excuse would’ve held up, and any panic would’ve looked suspicious. There was nothing to do but endure.

Wen Xian thought, *He suffered so much.*

Fortunately, in this life, there was still time. Shen Yuechuan wouldn’t get away with profiting and pinning it on someone else.

Perhaps his expression was too dark, because Jiang Zhiyi waved a hand in front of his face: “Wen Xian? Wen Xian, are you okay?”

Wen Xian caught his wrist. The skin beneath his palm was warm, pulsing with the vitality of youth—far warmer than the masked, ever-smiling man from their past lives.

Jiang Zhiyi smiled patiently at being held and asked, “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

Wen Xian: “A friend just called. Said something happened in the Shen family—Shen Jixing passed away. You already knew, right?”

Jiang Zhiyi hummed in agreement: “I really didn’t expect it, but…” He fiddled with his utensils, puzzled. “I didn’t realize you cared so much about Shen Jixing?”

Wen Xian’s expression was stormy, as if the one who had died wasn’t some barely-related cousin but a beloved friend. Shen Jixing’s funeral hadn’t even invited him, yet he looked as solemn as if he were standing at the graveside.

Wen Xian sighed and took a sip of juice: “Nah, it’s just… sudden. A perfectly healthy person dying like that—I’m still processing it. Heard it was a drug-related accident on the mountain road.”

Jiang Zhiyi said, "Yes, it's too sudden—so sudden that it feels abnormal. I don't know if it's just me, but I feel something’s off about this."

Shen Jixing had been a nuisance to Jiang Zhiyi, but Jiang Zhiyi had never wished for his death.

Wen Xian raised an eyebrow. "Something off? What do you mean?"

He had a detective and inside information, but he hadn’t expected his genius friend to be so perceptive as well.

Jiang Zhiyi held his steak knife, slowly cutting his steak. He moved absentmindedly as he lowered his gaze in thought and explained, "Although Shen Jixing had a temper, his social circle was clean. Ji Mingzhu kept tight control—he had no way to get involved with shady people. In high school, he still smoked, but he wasn’t into drugs. Later, Ji Mingzhu brought him into the main company to groom him as the successor, so he shouldn’t have had any access to that kind of thing."

Wen Xian murmured noncommittally, "So Ji Mingzhu brought him into the company to train as the successor?"

Jiang Zhiyi: "Yes. Ji Mingzhu has a strong-willed personality. Back when Shen Yuechuan founded the Shen Group, though he was nominally the CEO, Ji Mingzhu put up more money. The majority of the company’s shares were in her hands, and major decisions required her involvement."

As he spoke, he dipped the sliced steak in sauce and slid it forward, intending to transfer it to Wen Xian’s plate.

Wen Xian sipped his juice absentmindedly, deep in thought, when a piece of steak suddenly appeared in front of him. Without thinking, he leaned down and snatched it with his teeth, chewing as he mumbled, "Shen Yuechuan is still at the height of his career. Is Ji Mingzhu already pushing Shen Jixing into the Shen Group?"

Jiang Zhiyi froze, his fork unmoving for a long moment. Wen Xian, still chewing, glanced over. "Hmm? What’s wrong?"

He remembered when they’d first had Western food together—Jiang Zhiyi had hesitated for ages, carefully observing Wen Xian’s movements before daring to pick up his utensils. Now, he was already quite skilled, cutting his steak with elegant, practiced motions, no longer needing Wen Xian to slow down and demonstrate.

"...It’s nothing." Jiang Zhiyi calmly retrieved his fork, speared a new piece of steak, dipped it in sauce, and ate it. "As I mentioned earlier, Ji Mingzhu is quite strong-willed. Shen Yuechuan has always been deferential to her. Before, when Shen Yuechuan wanted the shares in her hands, Ji Mingzhu said she could transfer them to their child—Shen Jixing."

Wen Xian: "So?"

Jiang Zhiyi: "So, crazy as it sounds... I think Shen Yuechuan is a suspect."

This wasn’t Shen Yuechuan’s first time committing murder. After killing his first wife, he had already tasted the benefits—riding Ji Mingzhu’s coattails, he enjoyed nearly twenty years of success. No one reported the crime, no one investigated. For someone like him, reoffending would be easy.

Wen Xian murmured noncommittally, "I’ll ask my friend to look into it. If there’s solid evidence, I’ll let you know… By the way, when are you returning home?"

Jiang Zhiyi swallowed his steak and checked his watch. "Five in the afternoon."

Wen Xian slightly raised an eyebrow. "That’s cutting it close. Then let’s not waste time on unimportant people. Come on, I’ll take you to my place."

In his previous life, Wen Xian’s university years had been his happiest—free from his parents’ control, surrounded by like-minded friends, playing guitar, drinking, and posting videos that got decent views online. Life had drifted by leisurely.

In this life, he rented an apartment near campus—the same one as before—cluttered with random records. For some reason, he really wanted Jiang Zhiyi to see it.

In his previous life, he had never brought Jiang Zhiyi here.

Jiang Zhiyi hesitated slightly. "Is that okay?"

Wen Xian: "Of course it is."

They strolled along the riverbank until they reached the apartment. Wen Xian took out his keys and unlocked the door. The apartment wasn’t large—his guitar lay on the couch facing the entrance.

Jiang Zhiyi gingerly reached out to touch it.

Wen Xian handed it to him. "Want to try?"

Jiang Zhiyi froze, awkwardly holding it, looking nervous. His fingers brushed the strings but didn’t dare move further, giving Wen Xian a helpless look.

Wen Xian sat behind him, half-embracing him, adjusting his posture and plucking a few notes.

Jiang Zhiyi held his breath, frozen stiff, his back stiff.

Wen Xian laughed. "It’s not like you’re performing on stage. Why are you so tense?" He guided Jiang Zhiyi’s hands to play a few notes. Unfortunately, while Jiang Zhiyi excelled academically, he was completely musically challenged. Holding Wen Xian’s guitar like it was a barbell, he could only manage a few clumsy notes.

Wen Xian had only picked up the guitar for fun, idly strumming a few chords before setting it aside. Just then, his phone rang—it was the female flutist from the orchestra, someone connected to Nan City’s elite circles. Her mother and Zhang Xiaoping were old friends, and she was calling to discuss stage movements for an upcoming campus performance with Wen Xian.

A soft-spoken voice came through the line. Jiang Zhiyi’s hands stilled on the guitar strings, but Wen Xian wrapped things up quickly with a few words. He grabbed his coat, checked the time, and said, “Let’s go. I’ll drive you to the airport.”

From then on, they met several times a month. Meanwhile, the detective’s investigation was in full swing. One evening, he called: “Boss, found something new—sent it to your computer. Not a smoking gun, but I think we’ve got a handle on things.”

Wen Xian was in the library. He slipped on his headphones and clicked open the video.

It was grainy security footage angled toward the street outside Blue Note Bar.

The detective’s voice crackled through the earpiece: “There’s a jewelry store around the corner from the bar. Got robbed years ago, so they installed hidden cameras. Footage gets wiped every six months—I barely scraped this before deletion. This was half a month before Shen Jixing showed up at Blue Note.”

In the clip, Shen Yuechuan appeared on camera wearing a high-collared trench coat that obscured most of his face. Then he vanished from view.

About ten minutes later, he reappeared, walking straight to the intersection. Instead of getting into his own car, he hailed a taxi and left.

Wen Xian: “Too short. He can just say he stopped by for a drink and left. Doesn’t count as evidence.”

Detective: “Honestly? I think that’s exactly what he did—bought a drink and cased the joint.”

Wen Xian frowned. “?”

“Blue Note’s a hotspot in certain circles. First floor’s legit, but there’s a basement too. My guess is Shen Yuechuan got wind of it through some backchannel. Came to check it out, saw the unsavory crowd inside, and took off.”

Wen Xian: “…?”

His bewilderment was palpable over the line.

The detective chuckled. “C’mon, boss, this isn’t the 80s. You’re not thinking he hired a hitman or something, are you? Shen Yuechuan’s no idiot, and his wife’s no pushover. If his son ends up like the last one—say, run over by a truck—and there’s any big money movement, she’ll catch it. If he wants his kid cut out of the inheritance, the best way is to let him crash and burn himself.”

And what’s easier than dropping a spoiled rich kid with a taste for danger into a drug den?

At Shen Group, Ji Mingzhu holds majority shares—but she’s not the only shareholder. If Shen Jixing gets linked to drugs, those shares won’t be transferable.

Wen Xian pressed two fingers to his temple. *Makes sense.*

He knew Shen Jixing well—a hotheaded party boy, all flash and no sense. A few compliments and he’d lose his head completely. Dripping in designer hypebeast gear, flashing wealth like a neon sign, tossing cash around like it meant nothing. Throwing him into a place like Blue Note was basically feeding him to wolves.

His allowance alone could buy whatever he wanted. Even if he got hooked, he’d never dare tell Ji Mingzhu. And Shen Yuechuan? Just another father taking his son out for business talks—nothing unusual about that. He’d skate free.

Even if this didn’t stick, it didn’t matter. Shen Yuechuan had a dozen backup plans. All it took was one hit.

“…”

After a long silence, the detective spoke again: “Boss, I gave you everything I’ve got. Should I log off now?”

Wen Xian grunted in reply.

He opened his laptop, pulled up Jiang Zhiyi’s contact, and sent all the files over.

Two minutes later, read receipts popped up.

Some time passed before text bubbles appeared. Wen Xian crossed his arms, waiting. Thirty seconds later, Jiang Zhiyi typed:

“Wen Xian, your mother and Ji Mingzhu are cousins, right?”

“She doesn’t like me—we don’t have contact. Can you ask your mother to set up a sit-down for us?”

“I think… we’re on the same side.”